


Snow

by MurderBaby



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe, Hunter x Holiday 2016, Killua Is Still An Assassin, M/M, Phantom Troupe AU, The Phantom Troupe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 16:23:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9192626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MurderBaby/pseuds/MurderBaby
Summary: The job was impossible, but Killua was the heir. The most promising talent in generations. Nothing should be impossible for him.As snow falls everywhere, it's two golden eyes,  and skin tanned dark by the sun, that leaves him wondering what really separates the impossible from a miracle.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Hunter X Holiday 2016 Gift Exchange!
> 
> From: @murderxbaby  
> To: @christmascronus  
> “Hi sweet secret santee!  
> Thank you so much for the very inspiring prompt. I ended up going a little too hard with my “What if Gon joined the PT?” idea. As in, I wrote and wrote and wrote and still didn’t finish for you! I am so sorry. I fully intend to write and send you part 2 of this story when it’s ready. It’s all outlined, more or less, I just lost the time and energy needed to do it justice.I hope you have a wonderful holiday season, holiday exchange, and 2017! If you’d like, I’d love to be tumble buddies (I didn’t want to follow you lest I give away the surprise.)  
> Be well!” - Murderxbaby

The night was soft, and it sparkled. 

All around him snow fell quietly, muffling into silence his careful footsteps. The street lights, headlights and lights from cell phone screens bounced gently off the snow flakes. 

Puffs of frozen breath clouded his vision, but he had been tracking his mark for nearly 5 hours, now, and could feel the sweat dripping down his spine. 

The snow hadn't begun falling in York Shin City when Killua Zoldyck touched down at the massive airport, bustling to the point of anarchy in the holiday rush. It was a good thing, because the pressure from someone watching his movements pressed down on his shoulders as soon as he stepped outside of the airport. 

Killua didn't panic. This was an incredibly dangerous job, but fear didn't matter much these days. 

There was no need to panic, after all. There was only two options. Do it perfectly, or don't. 

As he flagged down a cab into the city, the pressure stilled his hands as he opened the car door. He breathed deep, once, and then ducked his long frame into the backseat. 

Once he paid the driver, the snow had started. After the few short steps into the hotel lobby, his shoulders were powdered with snow. 

He did little more than quickly sweep his room for bugs, or the presence of Nen before leaving his bag and stepping back onto the street. 

During the elevator ride down, he hugged the side of the wall where the camera couldn’t quite see the top of his head, and carefully fastened the black wig to his hair. 

At this rate, it should be easy to find his mark. Simply track the location of the eyes trained on him wishing only for his death, and he should be led directly there. 

Hours and hours passed without a change. The pressure neither grew, nor relented. He carried it with him around the city like phlegm in his lungs. It became darker, and darker, and the snow fell heavier and heavier.

He shivered, and tightened the belt of his long coat. Winter at the Zoldyck estate rarely caused quite the same gloomy, soaking feeling as the average winter night in possibly this most important city in the world. 

Killua did not skip dinner, if he could help it, and he did not skip it now. During his hike, he saw at least three separate "Best Pizza In The World" signs and by the fourth he couldn't resist at least test driving the claim. 

He shoved the final bite of crust in his mouth after standing up in the cramped restaurant to eat, and he shook his head in disappointment. Not even close to the best. 

It must have been the disappointment over the bald-faced lie, combined with the slight sluggishness borne of tomato, cheese and carbs sitting in a dense lump in his gut, because as soon as Killua stepped back outside, he nearly died. 

Glass shattered, the crowd screamed, and his Nen was all that prevented Killua from seeing his blood slash red lines in the snow at his feet. He managed to duck away from each bullet of Nen, but only just. He didn't have time to figure out where the attack was coming from. He needed to get away from this crowded sidewalk. One step, one leap up onto an oncoming car, and Killua was springing onto the roof behind. 

Killua started flying through the York Shin City night, then, leaping into an alley behind the building, and weaving elegantly through the dumpsters and crouching people hidden in the dark crevices of the city. 

The pressure he'd felt since the moment he'd landed never let up. Instead, something new laid hands on him from afar. His nose twitched, as if he could smell something, and his heart beat loudly in his ears. 

Another explosion, and the dumpster next to him slammed back against the wall. He nearly tripped, realizing there was wire or some cord, but thankfully the aura of his Nen was composed of made quick work of it. He heard screams, and felt something start to chase him. 

Killua did not want to risk innocent bystanders dying. That was gauche. That was something Illumi would do. But Killua was the heir. He held himself to higher standards. There would be no need for anyone to die other than his mark. 

Light pooled in the shape of a welcome mat as a door further down the alley creaked open. Something else about this opportunity beckoned to Killua. He curled into the doorway, relief flooding his body. Clearly, being outside made him vulnerable in some way he hadn't discerned yet. 

The hallway he found himself in had bare walls, and exposed light bulbs. It was probably only frequented by employees of whatever establishment he was in. He began walking, hoping to quickly reorient himself. 

Sounds of business overhead made Killua think he was in a hotel or restaurant. Smells of cooking told the same story. However, despite how appetizing and warm the interior was, another feeling crept over him.

A third feeling. Another pair of eyes. Another Nen user. Adept and close. 

Yet, this feeling was neither a feeling of danger, or breath sucking pressure. 

It was something else. Something new. 

For the first time since landing in York Shin City, Killua shivered. 

He found the doorway to the stairs, and climbed one and then two flights. The shivering refused to relent. As he climbed, the surroundings transformed from the utility of a basement into plush and luxurious surroundings. Thick red carpet and well polished brass fixtures decorated even the stairwell. Killua paused near a door with a small window, and peeked through it.

Very well dressed men and women mingled around a table overflowing with holiday decorations and food. Music from a live string quartet flowed out from under the door.

Killua was soaking wet, but he'd never been one to skimp on the quality of his clothing. He decided to risk hiding in plain sight.

Stepping into the crowd was a new kind of sensory overload. Sights, smells and bubbling conversation almost pushed aside the teeth chattering feeling in Killua's mouth. He tried to soften his face into comfortable casualness.

It only took a few minutes of eavesdropping to realize this was not an average holiday office party. Talks of family business, codes, and clans made Killua stop dead in his tracks.

This was a gathering of mafia dons and their confidants.

Eyes narrowed with suspicion surrounded him. Even while laughing, or patting the man next to him on the back, Killua knew that at any moment violence could erupt. The peace was precarious, and all of the alcohol flowing freely into everyone's glasses was a nervous finger hovering just a narrow sliver away.

Killua ran his fingers through his close cropped, silver-white hair. He cursed under his breath.

He'd known better than to actually have dealings in person with any of the men here before taking work from them, but it didn't matter. Zoldycks didn't hide their faces. Zoldycks feared no one else in their underworld. There was no way he wouldn't be recognized within moments.

"You!" came a truculent and tipsy voice from behind. Killua slowed in response, and then clenched his fists in frustration. Too late to play dumb now. He slipped his hands into his pockets to hide his frustration a little better.

"You, yes, the one that is soaked straight through like a stray dog in a monsoon. Don't I know you from somewhere?" said the man. Killua didn't need to feel the man's hand land on his shoulder to react instinctively by swiveling on his toes and plastering on a charming smile.

The man smiled back. His wide, red face shone drunkenly under the golden, sparkling lights of the party. His tone was light, but his eyes were not.

They shone with canny danger. Even if the man didn't recognize Killua, he recognized easy pray. Someone out of their element. At best, uninvited, and at worst, an enemy.

Either way, Killua's head served up to his bosses on a silver platter would be a very successful end to the evening.

"Nope, I think you must be mistaken," Killua said, lowering his eyes in what he hoped would appear deferential, and not sketchy. He towered over the older man, but he held his shoulders in a hunch like he was smaller and weaker.

"No, I don't think so. Silvio, get over here!" bellowed the man, waving at the comrade he'd walked away from. Killua knew he was drawing more and more eyes. He tensed his muscles, debating whether he should play the only card left in his hand, when the tumult and chatter of the party fell away in thick, overcooked chunks. A voice cut through all of it like a hot knife, until the bone underneath shimmered.

"I think it's your mistake, sir! He's with me."

Time didn't actually stop. The party didn't actually slow to a cinematic crawl. But Killua's heart did stop, for just a moment, and his breath caught, and he could not look away.

A man dressed in the black uniform of cheap fabric and a strangely expensive white tie of the party's servers and bartenders jogged his way through the crowd, waving and smiling. His skin shone like copper, and his hair was spiked into a youthful style, but Killua wouldn't have been able to tell you any of that if you'd asked him what the man looked like right now.

All Killua noticed was his eyes.

Round eyes, with pupils richly colored like caramel sauce. There was a delicacy to the man's glance, as he looked at Killua, and back at the bellowing man.

Delicate like knife held accurately between well trained fingers.

Killua and the man's eyes met, and Killua knew he'd been totally found out. Not recognized. The man didn't know he was a Zoldyck, probably.

"He's late, actually, so if you wouldn't mind doing us a favor and keeping your voice down, we'd really appreciate it," the man said, reaching for Killua's hand with his own. Killua realized the man was a little shorter than him, but strongly built, with his well-defined muscles testing the outer limits of his shirt's staying power. He realized this because every nerve sang with concern, and yet his feet stood still and his mouth gaped open uselessly.

The hand grabbed his own. Their fingers entwined, and the man yanked. Killua followed along, dutifully, like a puppy, as the two of them made their way towards the servant's entrance tucked away in the far edge of the room.

With a quick smile over his shoulder, and a shove through the swinging doors, Killua and this man escaped the party.

His hand was still being held firmly by this stranger's hand. That didn't make any sense.

Killua could hear the man's breathing. Calm and careful. Not because he was relaxed. He was simply prepared.

They wandered through the hallway for a short time before the man tipped his head quickly, indicating they were both going into the same dark nook.

It didn't matter, probably, what this man was planning. Killua was prepared to do whatever he needed to do.

The man pulled Killua into the long, dark room, until they reached the far end of it. There was almost no light, but the man's eyes still caught every trace of light like a tarnished mirror.

They both looked down at their joined hands. Killua pulled his hand back.

"How old are you?" asked the man, before Killua could even open his own mouth.

"What?"

"I'm 26. How old are you?"

"26," Killua answered. The man's mouth opened, a little, and then he smiled wider.

"Same as me."

There were a million questions Killua could have asked, then, and probably gotten not one satisfying answer. A million more reasons for Killua to simply bolt away at speeds too fast for the human eye to track, but he did not.

Instead, he asked the man, "How did you sneak in?"

"Oh, I actually do work here. I got this gig set up months ago to prepare for tonight," the man said. His smile faded a little.

"So, who is your target?"

"There's a who, and a what."

Why couldn't Killua sense who he was dealing with sooner? A fellow denizen of the underworld looks a certain way. You see it when they look at you from the corner of their eye, sizing you up.

If you can't see it, you hear it when they speak.

The man's smile fell away, and his eyes sharpened. Killua heard the same approaching noise. They looked to toward the wall, and saw a window. Their eyes met. The man lifted the window as Killua leaned over to see out. A small ledge. Killua wasted no time slipping his long, narrow frame through the opened window. The man he'd just met followed him out too, both of them precariously balanced against the edge. It was slippery, and dark, and the fall would probably leave them both at the very least incredibly sore.

Step by step, they made their way next to each other until they reached a window on the buildings far side. 

A flash of lightning made the parts hidden by darkness bright and real again. The night had sharpened into a terrible storm.

Killua looked to his right, and the man smiled right at him through the freezing rain. Killua nodded, for some reason he couldn't quite understand.

The thunder began rolling when another light appeared. The moving cone of light from a handheld flashlight.

Killua paused by the window, and felt the man step right next to him. His body language told Killua what crazy stunt he was going to try next, so Killua gripped the man's thick wrist with one hand, and braced himself against the window's frame. The man scrambled until he held himself up with one hand. Killua crouched, and swung. The man let go, trusting Killua to get him over to the other side.

Both of them should have pulled each other off the building's side in a messy, rain soaked free fall.

Killua should have let this stranger fall.

The man's smile could be seen again on the other side of the window when the second lightning blast split open the sky. He tilted his head again, and reached one arm out to start to jerk open the window pane.

As could be expected, the cone of light spun back to face them. As the holder walked closer, the man opened the window.

With deft, efficient movements the man yanked the patrolling man out by his wrist.

It must have flashed between of their minds, as the lightning also flashed. The man looked at Killua. Killua's breath caught.

He looked at the whimpering man held out over the void of the dark night. He pressed his fingers together, and ignored the sizzling smoke rising through the whipping rain.

The other man let out a wordless murmur of approval when Killua's sparking fingers connected with the patrolman's neck. The body slumped into unconsciousness.

With a firm, careful shove, Killua's partner in crime pushed the man back inside, and climbed in after. Killua followed.

As Killua stepped inside the pitch black room, he heard a body being dragged, and a muffled curse as the man must have collided with some furniture. Killua blinked, a few times, and activated his aura, sharpening his eyesight in the dark.

A bruise of yellow, purple, and oozing haze curled off of the stranger who had stuck by Killua without hesitation this far. His Nen, his life force concentrated and controlled by willpower, carried danger and experience. Power that could be summoned without hesitation.

The man looked at Killua, his face nothing but two golden pinpricks reflecting the flashing, storming night.

Their eyes met, and they saw each other entirely. Not just their faces, but the contents of their Nen.

What was the first thing his older brother, Illumi, taught him about Nen on that long night over a decade ago? After Killua had been forcibly returned home, empty handed, when he'd been unable to find the answers he was looking for out in the bigger world?

"You can never trust another's words, Killua, but you can always trust their Nen. Their intentions will be laid bare and clear to read."

The book of this man's heart was blank. Or was it invisible ink? He shook his head. No, it was a cipher. A code he would need a key to decipher.

He needed to find the key, he thought, automatically.

His heart beat so fast he could feel the vibrations against the back of his throat.

"Thanks for just knocking this guy out, by the way," the man finally said, interrupting Killua's thoughts as they started to race away from him.

"Yeah, of course, it'd be a sloppy job to do something more drastic," Killua replied.

"I agree, but my buddies don't always, so I was ready for a fight, I guess," the man continued. He stood up, and began twisting his arms and neck, trying to loosen the tightness.

Buddies. The man couldn't have meant him, but Killua had hoped, for just a second, that he did.

Why?

He still couldn't clearly see the man in this dark room, but he continued to watch the mysterious aura dissipate in swirls from the top of the man's close cropped hair. It made him appear taller, as if he were the same height as Killua instead of at least 10 centimeters shorter.

"So, you probably still need to get whatever you came here for, right?"

Killua did hear the question, but had been so lost in his own thoughts his mouth froze up on him.

"Hmmmm," said the man, after Killua said nothing. He stepped closer. "I thought so."

"You thought what?" Killua said, stepping back. He slipped his hands into his pockets He figured he could make it out the window in the next moment, probably, and readied himself to do just that.

"That's not your real hair. It's fake. I could smell it."

"You could smell it?!" Killua replied, flabbergasted.

The man nodded. "I could, but also that's not your real hair color, is it?"

It was not, obviously, that was why he wore a wig. Killua Zoldyck had the trademark hair of his father and grandfather. Startling, snow white.

"You have white hair, right?"

Killua hadn't moved. He knew his wig was still affixed correctly.

"How...?"

"I just know."

The key. It was standing right in front of him. He just had to ask.

"What's your name?" Killua asked. He pulled his hands out of his pocket without bothering to hide his fingers now twisted into claws. The other man's aura flared for a moment, before coming he pulled it closer, rippling as if Killua's intentions were stones tossed into its pool.

"Gon. Gon Freecss," the man said, bright with unfailing honesty.

No one moved faster than Killua Zoldyck, but he fell to the floor, stunned into stillness, as pain flooded his brain. He clung to his own hair as his stomach heaved inside of him like a ship at sea.

He was about to be sick, but Gon Freecss, 26 years old, a head shorter, broader and stronger, helped Killua Zoldyck lay down without hurting himself. Gon's hands touched his arms and wrapped around his back.Outside, the thunder crashed and roared.

Killua heard nothing, and Gon's warm hands pressed to his skin felt as insubstantial as shadows.

The pain vibrated in his bones. As if his hands had plunged into liquid fire, he slowly uncurled his fingers.

As if he'd been beaten black and blue, his skin clung painfully wet to his skin. His ears rung as if he'd just been caught in an explosion.

He tried to speak, then, but his throat was dry and thick with swallowed blood. 

It would not be clear, ever, whether Gon had invited them in, or let them know where they were. But the bullets of aura exploded into the wall behind, and Killua's arms were pulled back suddenly by thin, impossibly strong strands. 

"Good job, Freecss," rumbled a calm, masculine voice.

"I didn't think you were part of this job," followed a quiet, feminine voice sharpened by frustration and annoyance. 

Pulled to his feet by the knots tied around his hands, Killua saw that his pursuers from across the city had finally caught up to him. He tried to focus on their faces, but he couldn't. He tried to remember how to dislocate his wrists to pull his arms free, but he could not. 

Gon Freecss looked at carefully, hesitantly, with eyes narrowed in concentration. His mouth was set in an unreadable line. 

The face of Gon Freecss, a stranger and now an enemy, flooded Killua's mind with sights, sounds, and something as close to a memory as the fading twilight over his eyes when he would awake from deep within a dream. 

"Killua Zoldyck," Killua finally said. "But you knew that, didn't you?"

The other two must have said something, or laughed, or reacted somehow, but Killua only saw Gon's eyes widen. He only saw Gon's mouth soften into a smile that was almost fond.

"I did know."

A cold blast from the winter storm outside swirled through Killua's hair as two large fists collided with the back of his head, and leaving all but dead to the world. 

 

\----

 

Dreams were not respite for Killua. Not since he was a child. A night without dreams was the only kind of successful night. Either because he was working, or because he'd slept deeply enough to avoid them entirely. 

This must not have been a dream. He neither understood what was happening, nor felt afraid, or disgusted. Horror was a foreigner to his bones, and he quivered with anticipation. 

The sun shone and shone, and all around Killua spilled the brightest light of summer. 

It made no difference to Killua where he stood. It was at once a bare and devastating desert landscape, darted with outcroppings of wind sharpened rock. It was at once a wide expanse of prairie, quiet but for long staring eyes watching every move. It was at once a beautiful island covered in jungle and scattered fishing ponds, and so much happiness he could hardly breath for all the smiling and laughing he was doing. 

For the first time in many, many years, he wasn't alone. 

That's why it didn't matter where he was, or what he was doing. Running or fighting monsters. Going fishing, or laying under the stars. Searching for danger and excitement around every corner. 

He wasn't alone. 

Standing just a hair shorter than him, with the biggest smile, and the most exuberant voice was his friend. 

"You don't deserve friends," he thought, automatically, like reciting his birthday or phone number. 

His friend continued to smile. Everything felt warm. 

It wasn't a dream, so Killua realized he could want something. He could want it, and could reach for it.

So he reached out.

His friend looked back, and grabbed his hand. 

"Killua," said Killua's friend. 

"Thanks, Gon," Killua said. Their hands squeezed one another. He realized he was smiling. 

 

\----

 

"I thought you were sitting this one out, Freecss."

"You knew he'd want to poke his nose in after that tantrum he threw when we got the tip last week."

The voices blurred together incoherently as Killua noticed instead the sharp pain of his arm twisted into an angle meant to incapacitate him. Cold, dirty floor pressed his cheek flat, and his jaw began to move slowly as he became aware of his shallow breathing.

"It wasn't a tantrum," said the voice of Gon Freecss.

26\. A bit shorter than Killua, but stronger and wider built.  
The man of his dreams, or whatever he'd just experienced was, spoke somewhere from behind him. Killua gasped, without realizing he was doing it.

In a moment, eight pairs of piercing eyes pinned him to the floor.

A woman with thick, brightly colored hair gently bend her fingers, and Killua's wrists twisted together painfully. Beside her, a giant man with huge, dangling earlobes hoisted one hand as if it were the barrel of a cannon.

"He's awake," grumbled the giant man. The woman scoffed.

Before Killua could react, a fist of strong, long fingers gripped his hair, and lifted his head. He saw a third face then, a new one, with a long, curved nose and small, fierce eyes.

"This pale little fucker is supposed to be the world's most infamous assassin?"

"Debatable, apparently," sighed the irritated woman.

It was defensive, and instinctive, for Killua to surround himself with aura. In retaliation, the fist smashed Killua's face into the floor. The damage was minimal, thanks to Killua's Nen, but the pain was not.

"I don't give a shit who you are, you little mother fucker," continued the man with the beak nose. Killua saw the man step into view before him, and crouch. He tilted his head to meet the man's gaze.

"I don't give a shit who you're supposed to be," the man spat. "We know why you're in town, and if it weren't for..."

Uncurling fingers freed Killua's hair. Noisy sets of stomping feet shook the dirty floor in front of Killua's face as a fourth person shoved the man gripping Killua's hair back.

"Hey! We flipped the coin already, Freecss!"

"Yeah, we did, which is why I am keeping you from smashing him into pieces, Nobu!"

Gon's boots stomped away from the man, now squatting on the floor pouting. He reached Killua's side, and gripped his arms tightly, but with care. He lifted Killua until he could sit upright, and take in the whole room. 

The faces blended like someone poured them down a drain. Killua tasted the blood in his mouth. He met the scowling beady eyed man's gaze as he spat it disdainfully to the floor. 

"You little shit..." shouted the man Gon had called Nobu. The pink haired woman poked him hard in the shoulder.

"I don't want to deal with you two morons fighting again. Let's just get out of here, okay?"

Nobu stood, a long body with the precise movements of a confident killer. The other man, and woman, also moved with the practiced energy of someone that knew that no one could really fuck with them. 

The escape would be challenging, then, but should not be impossible. After all, by all rights, he should be dead. There was no reason he should still be alive. 

This was the Phantom Troupe.

They were merciless, and infamous, in exactly the same way Killua was both merciless and infamous.

He should be dead.

Amber eyes laced with gold and green blinked into Killua's vision. A serious face, with surprisingly soft looking lips leaned close. Two calloused hands gripped his arms to hoist him to his feet.

They began to march Killua out of the room. His bound hands tested the strength of the Nen fortified binding, and he nodded. 

He definitely should be dead. 

The dark hallway they entered was dotted with wide windows. One was propped open already, spilling in freezing winter air. 

The woman and the large man headed off down the hall, but the man called Nobu climbed out of the window. 

Gon placed a hand on Killua's neck, and bent him forward to shove his head through the window. Nobu gripped the back of Killua's jacket, yanking him painfully through the opening. 

They must have moved buildings, as Killua could see the glowing lights of the city from a different angle now. The wind and cold had only gotten more severe. They stood on the angled roof, and could have slipped and fallen at any moment if they weren't all expert Nen users. Gon stepped out behind them. As if just touching him was disgusting, Nobu scoffed, and jerked his hand forward, until Gon was forced to catch Killua so they didn't both fall.

"Your problem, kid. And you're just delaying the inevitable, anyway," Nobu said. With a final pause, and a look that surprised Killua with how tender it was, Nobu nodded. He jumped away into the swirling snow storm.

"Come on," shouted Gon. Calloused hands gripped his arms, and he jumped alongside the member of the Phantom Troupe next to him. 

Why wasn't he dead? 

They hopped between rooftops in the slop of freezing slush. Killua kept pace with no trouble, despite his bound arms, but also Gon didn't want to leave him behind. 

There was no question if he veered off course, or tried something, the retaliation would be swift and final. Gon's aura poured off in thick, dark waves. 

When the time was right, Killua could easily escape the bindings. He would also have no trouble using all of his speed to escape this man's grasp. 

But the question weighed down his mind, and slowed his feet.

Why was he alive?

Gon looked back at him. He made a gesture telling Killua to pause with the flat of his palm facing him. He pointed towards a narrow awning on the roof they stood on. They dived under it.

It made sense to stick with Gon, honestly, because this was as close of a lead as he could have lucked into finding, after all. 

Gon faced him with square shoulders. His lips quivered, briefly, before he inhaled. 

"I know why you're here," Gon admitted. Hardly a secret at this point.

"Of course you do, you know I'm Killua Zoldyck," Killua agreed.

Gon paused, and then nodded. The pause made Killua hesitate, but he continued.

"I'm here to kill your boss."

He should be dead.

"That's not correct," Gon replied, easily.

After saying that, Killua should be dead.

"You've got it all wrong," Gon continued. 

After saying that, Killua should have tried to kill Gon. 

"I think someone is trying to kill you."

It reminded him of only one other person. A presence that made him cautious and soft. His voice fluttered trapped in his throat. 

"What the fuck do you care?" Killua finally asked. 

"Because it's wrong," Gon said. He sounded as certain as a child. It made absolutely no sense, besides.

"You're a fucking thief and murderer," Killua asked, exasperated. 

"And you're an assassin, right?"

Killua should be running, he could just call the mission off. This was unpredictable, even for him, even for someone with hundreds of successful deaths in terrifying circumstances on his record. 

However, Gon Freecss looked at him with eyes that glowed in the low, sparkling light. He looked at him, and nothing made sense. The three other people who had captured him were dangerous, but it was a predictable feeling. Life threatening was all in a day's work for a Zoldyck. 

Gon held his gaze with patience and sincerity. Killua had to nod. There was no lying to eyes like that. 

"Then that means I need your help. And you need mine."

Why couldn't he talk? Why couldn't he run? Instead, all Killua could do was tighten his hands behind him into fists. It was freezing cold, but his skin burned like it had been branded with hot iron. 

"We're going to kill Chrollo Lucilfer."

**Author's Note:**

> I'll continue this story once I'm done with some other projects. Please let me know if you like it! Or if you hate it! I'm very tough.
> 
> (AN: I am not tough at all, but I still love all comments.)


End file.
